


Bibliophilia

by streetsuss_serenade



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-05 05:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streetsuss_serenade/pseuds/streetsuss_serenade
Summary: It's ridiculous to have a crush on someone simply based on the books they request at the library, but that doesn't stop Nate for falling hard for Student ID Number 0295321.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based solely on the characters from the mini-series

It was the juxtaposition in topics that caught Nate’s attention the first time. When he went to shelve the microfiche of _De curis mulierum_ , which appeared to be a medieval book on gynaecology, next to a book on macro-economics, he stopped to make sure he was reading the numbers correctly. After all, econ majors didn’t typically need to consult six hundred year old books on medicine in their work. But they had the same student id number, 0295321, so he moved on.The next time, it was _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance,_ a book on Jan Van Eyck and _Ain’t I a Woman._ Nate checked, and sure enough, it was the same student. Nate was so curious. What was this person’s major? Were they doing an independent study? What kind of course of study brought together Flemish Renaissance painters with feminist theory and late 20th century pop philosophy?

Nate liked his work study job at the library. He liked that most days there was enough downtime that he could get some homework done, and that even if there weren’t, he could memorize declensions while he shelved. He liked returning order to the messy piles in the book returns, and he liked seeing all of the books that came into the library through interlibrary loan. He liked packing the books from his library to be loaned out; he liked to imagine they types of people who had requested them, and what they would use them for. He didn’t want to make a career of this, but it was a great gig. Much better than his shift manning the eggs-to-order station in the dining hall on Tuesday and Sunday mornings.

Nate began to keep an eye out for student 0295321’s requests when they came through the system. There were a dazzling array of topics from domestic abuse to the biography of Karl Marx. Some of the books seemed to be for pleasure reading ( _The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants,The Hunt for Red October,_ ) which Nate found even more fascinating. Who had time to read for fun in college? Nate certainly didn’t, and he was the fastest reader he knew.

The day he shelved _Chicken Soup for the Woman’s Soul_ and an ILLed repair manual for a 1994 Yamaha FZR600, Nate gave up. He had to know who this person was. He headed over to the terminal at the circulation desk and furtively typed 0295321 into the search bar. He didn’t know why he felt guilty - he wasn’t accessing any information that he wouldn’t see if he’d been manning the circ desk when the person came in to pick up their holds. When the student profile popped up, Nate was surprised to see that he recognized him. He was a dark haired guy who Nate had noticed in the dining hall before. He was memorable because he always seemed to be talking, no matter how early in the morning it was or how hungover his companions seemed to be. Student 0295321’s name was Ray Person; he was a sophomore; he had two books already checked out, and he owed $9.20 in fines. Nate stared at the ID photo, trying to figure out why this sophomore who looked about a second away from giving the ID photographer finger guns (judging from the obnoxious lime Ray Bans tucked into his collar) would be checking out _Chicken Soup for the Woman’s Soul_ to go with the history of the Civil Rights movement and _Unmistakably Mackie: The Fashion and Fantasy of Bob Mackie_ that he already had at home.

Nate stared at the student id photo. His chest felt tight and his stomach was snarled in knots. He took a deep breath, willing himself to be sensible. It was absurd to have a crush on someone just because he had gorgeous eyes and a unique taste in books. Nate had never even met this guy - maybe he just reserved these books because he liked torturing hapless student workers, maybe he used them to prop up furniture in his dorm room and chose them based on spine width, maybe he was in a relationship, maybe he was hopelessly straight. Despite his sensible self-talk, Nate spent the rest of his shift with butterflies in his stomach, not sure if he was hoping that Ray would come in to pick up his books or hoping he wouldn’t.

The next two weeks passed by in a blur of Hell Week and midterms. Frustratingly, he found his mind bouncing to Ray again and again. Nate’s focus had condensed to the next task, the next time he could sleep, the next mug of coffee, yet Ray popped into his head at the oddest times; during a middle of the night shower (a sad attempt to wake himself in the middle of paper writing), Nate found himself imagining introducing himself to Ray and asking him out; in the dining hall, his heart jumped around at the sound of male laughter, which was _ridiculous_ because he’d never even heard Ray speak, let alone laugh. Nate soon realized that studying during his shifts at the library was a completely lost cause, because he spent the entire time in fidgety agitation, watching every new entry to see if it was Ray. Given how many students came into the library during midterms, Nate was halfway to giving himself a repetitive stress injury turning his head toward the door.

Somehow, Nate survived midterms. He also survived his post-midterms recovery routine, which consisted of being either drunk or asleep for a few days. Walking across campus to his first well-rested library shift in a few weeks, he gave himself a stern lecture. Indulging in a crush because he was stressed and it was nicer than panicking about how much work he had to do was not the most dignified thing, but it was excusable. Now that midterms were over, there was no excuse, and he wasn’t going to think about Ray, or imagine asking him out, or pay unusual attention to the holds he requested.

When Nate dropped his things behind the circulation desk, his co-worker Dave looked up from the book he was reading and sent Nate to shelve the new hold requests. Nate ignored the fluttering in his stomach as he printed out the holds list, and he absolutely refused to acknowledge the pang of disappointment when he realized Ray’s student id number wasn’t on it. He focused on running declensions in his head as he collected the books from their shelves. Midterms might be over, but he had translations due Thursday. Once he’d gathered all the books on the list, he pushed the cart back to the front of the library and headed to the holds shelf. As he approached the shelves, his heart slammed into his ribcage. Ray’s books were still there. Nate might get a chance to see him today. Absently, he rubbed a hand over his chest. That _hurt._ Stubbornly, he turned back to the books he was supposed to be shelving and he repeated the second declension suffixes to himself - _Nominative singular - ος, Nominative dual_ _-ω, genitive singular -_

Nate was halfway through his task and working on remembering the declensions of the irregular nouns they’d been assigned when Dave clapped a hand on his shoulder. Dave was nice enough, as far as co-workers went, but he could be a little intense. Nate avoided him whenever possible.

“Nate, my good man,” Dave was only a year older than Nate, but he always spoke to Nate like Nate was a charming young scamp. He reminded Nate of his Great-Uncle Ed. “The librarians have asked me to sit in on this collections meeting, you know, because of the online course I’m taking. They want my input. Cover the desk will you? Those can wait.” He finished, gesturing to the cart with the holds.

Nate agreed, mentally translated “the librarians have asked” to “the librarians gave in to my incessant whining,” and headed to the desk. It was a relatively slow afternoon; only a few student came up to check out books or to ask questions. Nate had made measurable progress on his Greek translations before Dave returned.

“Excellent work, well done” Dave said, with another clap on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work, will you? I want to type up my reflections and suggestions while they’re fresh and email them to the team.” He headed to the back office without waiting for Nate’s response. Out of the corner of his eye, Nate noticed someone approaching the desk, so he bit back his frustration and turned to help them, his polite smile pasted into place.

 Ray Person smiled back at him. His eyes were even prettier in person.

 “Hey, I need to pick up some books I have on hold.”

 He was wearing a t-shirt that was a few sizes too big for him, and when he slid his ID across to Nate, Nate found himself staring at the way the sleeve gaped around Ray’s delicate wrist. He took the card from Ray, and tried not to visibly react when their fingers touched.

 “Right, yeah, I’ll just…” Nate gave up on coherence and fled to the safety of the back room and the hold shelves. When he reached the shelves with Ray’s books, he leaned his forehead against the cool metal and let out a long, slow breath. His face was hot, and his heart was pounding in his ears. He tried another deep breath, but he still felt shaky and overwhelmed. He turned his cheek into the coolness of the bookcase and held out a hand. Of course it wasn’t trembling. He gave himself a mental shake. He could do this. At this point, if he managed to form a complete sentence, it could be considered a victory. He straightened, grabbed the two books waiting for Ray, and headed to the front.

 Ray had been joined by a blond man wearing a swim team hoodie and athletic pants. Nate tried not to read anything into how close they were standing.

 “So,” Nate said, trying to sound casual as he began check out the books “Did your bike not come with a manual?”

 “Nah, my best friend has one and I’m going to annoy the shit out of him by knowing more about it than he does.”

 “You have an interesting approach to friendship,” Nate commented drily.

 The guy with Ray muttered “You have no idea.”

 “Walt, baby, if you’re going to be cranky, I’m not going to let you watch while I use this other book to make Trombley cry.”

  _Baby._ It hit Nate like a blow. He dropped his eyes to the counter in front of him, hoping that Ray and Walt couldn’t read anything in his expression. This was why it wasn’t worth developing full blown infatuations with strangers. The reality of their lives always intervened and ruined things.

 Walt eyed _Chicken Soup_ with trepidation as Nate scanned it into the system “You say that like I’d mind.”

 Ray ignored him, choosing instead to whisper conspiratorially to Nate “Trombley’s from _Michigan.”_ As if that explained something. Nate was trying to formulate a response when Dave approached the counter.

 “Nate!”

 Ray scooped up his books and started to head out as Dave said aggressively “You just broke the cardinal rule of librarianship! You _never_ comment on a borrower’s book, Nate. Never. You never know what impact a thoughtless comment can have on a sensitive soul.”

 Ray, who had overheard on his way out the door, smirked at Nate behind Dave’s back and then clutched the books to his chest and affected a swoon. Walt blushed and pushed him outside. Despite the hollow feeling in his stomach, Nate found himself smiling.

 Mercifully, it was a few weeks before Nate saw Ray again. Unfortunately, the next time he saw Ray, he was wearing an apron, and he was flipping an egg white omelette. Nate prided himself on never being late to a shift, no matter how late he’d been up the night before, but that determination rarely left time for a shower before work. As he saw Ray grab a bowl and head to the add ins station, Nate felt deeply grateful for the baseball caps that were a requirement of the dining hall uniform. He’d thought that he had mostly moved on from his infatuation with Ray, but, the sight of Ray’s shaggy hair and his wild gesticulation sent Nate’s stomach lurching.

 Mechanically, he prepared scrambles and omelettes for the people in front of him, keeping a constant watch on Ray’s progress in line. With any luck, Ray would end up with one of the other three people running the station, but luck was not on Nate’s side.  Just when he thought he’d be free and clear, a student three people ahead of Ray handed her plate back and asked for it to be more browned, slowing up the entire line. Nate finished with the feta and spinach omelette he was making, grabbed a clean pan, and turned to take the bowl from Ray. He kept his head down, but as he reached for the bowl, Ray said

 “Hey, don’t you work at the library?”

Nate forced the requisite smile onto his face and looked up “I do. I work here too. How do you want your eggs?”

He tugged on the bowl, but Ray didn’t relinquish it. He tilted his head and asked “Nate, right? Well, Nate, what do you recommend?”

 Nate tried not to grimace. He was exhausted and covered in oil from the pans, and the line was stacking up behind Ray.

“What I recommend depends on whether you prefer your eggs scrambled or in an omelette.”

 Undeterred, Ray asked “What if I prefer my eggs poached?”

 Nate grabbed the bowl out of his hands “Then you’re getting them scrambled.” He turned and dumped the assorted veggies and meats into the pan.

 Ray laughed.  “You run a harsh dominion, Egg Master.”

 Charmed despite himself, Nate hooked a thumb toward his boss. “He’s the Egg Master. I’m a lowly egg peon.”

 “For a peon, uphold the rules of the realm very well.”

 Nate turned and poured the egg mixture over the add ins and scrambled them with his spatula. When he turned back, Ray flushed. Nate couldn’t tell where Ray’s eyes had been directed, but it must have been somewhere interesting to bring such color to Ray’s cheeks. He raised an eyebrow. Ray grabbed his plate and sketched a sloppy salute before fleeing the line. Nate didn’t have time to watch him go, as he turned to get instructions from the next student in line.

 A few nights later, Nate found himself without plans on a Saturday night. Most of his friends were at a party that Mike was hosting with the cross-country team, but Nate wasn’t interested in joining them. His most recent ex was on the team with Mike, and Nate was not in the mood to play nicely with him tonight. He knew he could scare up other plans if he tried hard enough, but it seemed like entirely too much effort. A night of movies and working on homework called for a higher quality of snacks that he usually kept in his dorm room, however, so he headed out to the student center. As he crossed campus, he noticed Ray standing by the steps of one of the dorms with two guys - a blonde white guy who Nate didn’t know, and a Hispanic student Nate vaguely recognized as having been at some of the political forums that Nate had attended - smoking a cigarette, presumably before entering the party that was clearly raging within.

 Nate was prepared to pass them by with only a nod, but as he drew closer, Ray called out to him.

 “Hey! Nate! You gotta back me up on this.”

Nate stopped and headed over, where Ray introduced him to his friends - Lilley and Espera - before saying “The work you were doing when you were at the library. That was Greek, right?”

Nate blinked in surprise. “Uh, Yeah. I’m a classics major.”

“Perfect. So -the word stygian. Tell Lilley that I’m not making shit up when I tell him that it comes from the River Styx.”

“Brah” Lilley  groaned “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you. I said I didn’t care. C’mon, man” he said to their friend “Let’s go get in the beer line. If we let Person get going, there’s going to be nothing left but foam by the time we get there.”

Nate felt bad about driving them off, but Ray didn’t seem concerned.

“Don’t worry about him, homes. He’s a chill dude, he just gets sick of me sometimes. You know how it is with roommates.”

“Is he the motorcycle fan?”

“No, that’s Brad. He’s studying abroad this semester, but he’s going to be _pissed_ when he gets back” Ray looked elated at the prospect. He stubbed out the cigarette and headed up the stairs into the dorm, where they could hear the buzz of people and music. Without thinking, Nate followed him.

“He’s off learning how to take over the world from British economists, so he’s probably going to come back with all sorts of terrible ideas about subjugating people for the greater good of the Empire or some shit. I am fully prepared for him to have done a full Anakin Skywalker to Darth Vader transformation, and I’m going to have to de-program him, tough love style.”

“Does that make you Obi-Wan?”

Ray laughed. His laugh was raucous and when he laughed, it coursed through him from head to toe. He reminded Nate of a puppy whose tail wags its whole body in its enthusiasm. It was hopelessly endearing.

“No, homes, I am so obviously R2D2. How have you not figured this out yet?” Ray cocked his head to the side, mischief written all over his face. “You, on the other hand, are probably C3PO.”

Nate wasn’t sure if that was a compliment. He was so flummoxed that he stood there staring at Ray for a moment. Awkward for the first time,  Ray gave him a mocking bow and gestured toward the beer line saying, “Don’t let me keep you from the foam”

Still off balance, Nate blurted, “I don’t care about the beer. I just followed you.”

Ray grinned. His mouth was too big for his face, and his grin should have made him look ridiculous. Instead, it was infectious. Nate grinned back.

Ray said “Great, then let’s get out of here and find someplace more interesting. You can tell me what the fuck is up with your co-worker. _The cardinal rule of librarianship_ ? Really? _”_

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you” Nate told him, following Ray past the smokers on the stairs and out into the night. They wandered around a bit while Nate told Ray about the time that Dave had lectured a girl about proper book handling so hard she cried, only to find out that she was a prospective student visiting with her parents. Nate still wasn’t sure how Dave hadn’t gotten fired, but the other student workers were passing rumors that Dave had a connection on the Board of Trustees, so maybe that was it.

It turned out that Ray was majoring in Social Work, but he was taking extra electives this semester, because he wanted to. The Bob Mackie book was for a stagecraft class he was taking (“I like seeing how shit works” he’d said when Nate looked surprised.) When he heard about Nate’s double major, his face twisted into a leer.

“Classics and Poli-Sci? So it’s not enough to learn about the system as it is, you gotta jerk off to all the dudes who created it? Gotta learn where it came from?”

“Basically, yeah”

“Nerd” Ray said forlornly “I bet you were an Eagle Scout too.”

Nate was silent. He hadn’t actually made it to Eagle, but there was a patch-filled Boy Scout uniform back in his parents’ house that proved Ray’s point. Correctly interpreting Nate’s silence, Ray cackled with glee.

“It’s cool, dude, we all have our dark pasts. I was once the proud captain of the Nevada High School Debate team. Go Tigers!”

They wandered around campus with no particular purpose or destination covering the basic get-to-know you questions and following whatever conversational tangent seemed most interesting. Ray was fascinating and easy to talk to. Nate was never sure what Ray was going to say next, and the anticipation fizzed through his blood and went to his head. He felt effervescent. It hurt. Every leap of his heart or bubble of glee was echoed by a thud in the pit of his stomach when he remembered Walt. Walt who was gorgeous, and a swimmer, who Ray called _baby_ with easy affection.

They headed out on a second loop of the quad with no awkward pauses or struggles to find connection. It turned out that Ray was also a huge _Sandman_ fan and could talk about the comics at length; they then had a lengthy argument about whether or not Holden Caulfield had any redeeming qualities (Ray was anti, Nate was pro) and spent a very satisfying fifteen minutes talking about all the different ways in which Of Mice and Men was some specious, ableist bullshit that should not be forced upon innocent high-school students.

Nate was in the middle of a rant about all the different ways in which his RA was an incompetent buffoon  when Ray interrupted.

“Wait, how’d you get a single as a sophomore?”

“The fact that I’m a junior helped.”

Ray was so thunderstruck he stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at Nate’s face “How? I mean...like...dude, if I hadn’t met you on a college campus I would have pegged you as a high schooler.”

Nate rolled his eyes. This was not a new line of commentary, and it got old.

“Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s a good look for you, you’re a handsome dude, I’m just saying, homes, it’s alarming. A junior? Really?”

Nate’s annoyance was drowned by the adrenaline jolting through his whole body. Ray dropped the compliment like it was meaningless, like it was a fact. At a loss, Nate gestured ahead of them “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, can we?”

Ray started walking again, but kept surreptitiously glancing at Nate’s profile. Nate tried to ignore him, despite the prickling knot settled neatly between his shoulder blades. Every time Ray looked up at him, the streetlights highlighted the shadows of Ray’s eyelashes on his cheeks. Nate wasn’t supposed to be noticing things like that. But how could he help it, with Ray right there, and seemingly deeply unconcerned about personal space? Ray was walking next to him so closely that Nate’s knuckles kept brushing the soft hair on Ray’s forearms. Sometimes when that happened, Ray shivered and Nate had to bite the inside of his lip _hard_ to resist the temptation to find out what Ray would do if he slipped his arm around Ray’s waist instead.

Eventually, Ray abandoned his apparent goal of driving Nate to distraction with his general presence and kissability, and picked up the thread of their previous conversation, “So your RA is an idiot, huh?”

Nate snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. He’s so concerned with checking the box that says ‘did a room check’ or ‘confiscated contraband’ that he misses the actually important shit. He wrote me up for having an extension cord plugged into a surge protector, but he missed this dude down the hall’s giant bong and the candle he insists on lighting while smoking. Which is relevant because he later lit his curtain on fire with the aforementioned candle. For fucks sake.”

Ray laughed, and Nate again resisted the urge to ruin the night by doing something stupid like kissing the curve of Ray’s neck as he threw his head back. Common sense said that Nate should use his shift in the morning to cut this night short, and escape to the relative safety of solitude, but instead he said “It’s pretty nice out still, do you want to sit on the loggia?”

The dorms on Nate’s side of campus were all connected by a one-story covered walkway with a gently sloping roof. Nate’s room was one of the coveted singles on the loggia side of the building, meaning that he could climb out of his window and onto the roof. Student government had very few perks, but early room selection was one of them.

Ray raised an eyebrow. “I take it back, homes, you are the Princess Leiaiest Princess Leia I have ever met.”

Nate took that as a yes, and led the way to his dorm. He led Ray to his room, and unlocked the door. His stomach was in knots. Who knew if their easy camaraderie would survive the weighted atmosphere of his dorm room? It didn’t mean anything, they were simply using his room as a means to an end, but it _felt_ like it meant something. As Nate turned on the lights, Ray made a beeline for the milk crates that functioned as his bookcase. Crouching, Ray began running his fingers along the spines. Not much to see there, honestly, it was almost entirely books for the semester, yet Nate still felt absurdly nervous. He wanted Ray to like what he saw.

Apparently, Ray did, because he tipped a book into his hand and looked up at Nate approvingly “You have _When God was a Woman?_ What did you think?” Nate who’d had to read it for class, and had barely made it through the prose to the interesting ideas underneath just stared. Ray had read it for fun? Who was this guy?

Ray must not have required an answer, because he replaced the book, stood up and then headed over to the window.

Nate snagged the bottle of bourbon from the top of the mini-fridge. The only cups he had were the Disney Princess ones that they’d bought at the dollar store for Mike’s birthday, so he left those behind. Hopefully Ray wouldn’t mind sharing the bottle.

When Nate got out onto the roof, Ray was sitting with his back against the wall, singing “Teenage Dirtbag” under his breath. Nate laughed in surprise, and Ray grinned at him again. Nate settled against the wall, a safe distance away from Ray, and proffered the bottle. Ray accepted, took a pull, and passed it back.

They began talking _When God Was a Woman_ , and other required reading, and soon the bottle sat neglected between them as they excitedly compared favorites and gave recommendations. At one point, Ray shifted to sit cross-legged, which brought his knee up to press against Nate’s thigh. Nate tried not to notice overly much. He was wearing jeans for god’s sake, this wasn’t exactly intimate contact. Still, his skin felt hot. Ray was telling him about Harriet Tubman, and why Hollywood needed to make an action movie about her. Nate had no idea how they’d gotten on to this topic, but he didn’t care.

Nate wasn’t sure how much time passed before everything went to shit. Ray was telling him a story from last year, when he had decided that Brad was his platonic soul mate and immediately determined that they were going to be best friends, no matter what Brad thought about it.

“So Lilley comes back from break with this piece-of-shit video camera, and he’s determined that making movies is his new calling or whatever. I’m not kidding you, this video camera is awful. It’s cherry fucking red and clearly was designed for some teenybopper to record home videos of herself lip syncing. And Lilley fucking loves it. I swear to god he probably tried to fuck it. And the worst part is, he won’t stop filming us. Every time you turn around, there’s Lilley with the fucking camera, and if you look at him, he shuts it and yells at you for ruining the shot. He keeps talking about wanting to capture the quotidian and the mundane, which fuck you have to give him credit for knowing what quotidian means, but it is fucking annoying and…”

Nate watched Ray’s hand as he spoke. They arced and looped in rhythm with the cadences of his voice. It was entrancing, and it was safer than looking at Ray’s face. His voice was warm with amusement and affection, and Nate was sure that whatever look accompanied that warmth would be the end of him.

“So, Brad draws himself up, and I swear to you, it was like the voice of God was speaking through him, like some serious burning bush shit. He glares at Lilley and he says ‘Jason’ which is a bad sign in and of itself, because who knew Brad even knew Lilley had a first name, so he goes ‘Jason, has it occurred to your infinitesimal common sense that filming people without their consent is not only questionable from an ethical perspective, but also illegal? And perhaps the hoi polloi would like to go about their commonplace days without …”

Nate’s heart ached with longing, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted Ray to leave or to never stop talking, so the night couldn’t end and Nate didn’t have to imagine him going back to his boyfriend. He felt sick to his stomach. He wasn’t this person. He didn’t do things like this. No matter how many different ways he tried to wave it away as “making friends” he hadn’t been. He’d been flirting with Ray, and Ray had been flirting back.

Ray must have clued in to Nate’s distance, because he rocked forward as if he were about to reach out. That brought more of Ray’s leg to press against Nate’s, and Nate flinched. Ray noticed and immediately scooted back, looking perplexed.

“If I’m talking too much, you can just tell me. I understand that all this excellence can be hard to take in. Really. I won’t mind.”

“No,” Nate said, “It’s fine. You didn’t do anything.” Ray’s face was skeptical, so Nate laid it on a little thicker, “I’m just tired. I didn’t realize how late it is.”

Now it was Ray’s turn to flinch. “Sorry.” He paused, and when Nate didn’t step in to say it was okay, he said “Do you want me to go?”

Nate thought _I want you to tell me why you’re here in the first place._ Instead, he said “Yeah, sorry. I have to man the egg station again in the morning. Thanks for the walk though.”

Ray stared at him for a second, and then said “Yeah. Thanks for the bourbon and for recommending the Paul Watkins book. I’ll definitely check that out.”

He climbed awkwardly back through Nate’s window. Nate grabbed the bourbon bottle and followed him just in time to see Ray shutting the door behind him. Fuck.

Before Nate had a chance to do anything more than close the window, Ray poked his head back in the room, “Hey, quick question, but what the fuck?”

Nate startled, “What?”

“You can’t just hit on me all night, _invite me to your room,_ and then send me on my way without even making a move!”

Nate gaped at him “You have a _boyfriend!”_

Ray’s face twisted in outrage “I do not!”

“You don’t?” 

Ray stepped further into the room, and shook his head. The hairs on Nate’s arms stood up.

“Not that I know of, homes. What the fuck did you think I was doing tonight?”

Nate raised his eyebrows. “Fucked if I know, I’ve been trying to figure it out all night. What about that guy with you at the library?”

“Walt? Nah, dude, he’s straight as an arrow.”

“You called him baby.”

 Ray grimaced. Part of Nate’s brain distantly admired how elastic and expressive Ray’s face was. The rest was a roiling mess of disbelief, confusion and embarrassed hope.

“I can see,” Ray said  “how that might be interpreted as romantic entanglement by an outsider, but please be assured that my interest in young Walter is purely platonic and revolves around convincing him to help me with my econ homework.”

Nate blinked slowly. If that were true, and he had no reason to doubt Ray, then tonight was the best date he’d been on in ages. In response, he stepped forward, bent down, and kissed Ray like he’d wanted to all night. Given that Ray had literally demanded that he make a move, Nate didn’t bother with a delicate first kiss, opting instead to press his mouth firmly to Ray’s and trace his tongue along Ray’s gorgeous lower lip. Ray made a small sound that might have been surprise or dismay or pleasure, but before Nate could pull back and ascertain which, Ray wrapped a hand around the back of Nate’s head and opened his mouth beneath Nate’s. Nate slid his hands to Ray’s back, tracing Ray’s spine with his fingertips. Ray released the back of Nate’s head just long enough to let Nate straighten, before Ray rose up on his tiptoes and wrapped his arms around Nate’s neck, biting at Nate’s lips until they opened.

Later, when they were sprawled across Nate’s bed and Ray was tangling and untangling their fingers, tracing the lines of Nate’s fingers with the pads of his, something occurred to Nate.

“Why are you taking econ if you’re going to be a social worker?” Nate’s voice was fuzzy to his own ears.

Beneath Nate’s head, Ray’s shoulder shrugged

“You have to understand a system if you’re going to tear it down.”

Nate lifted his head to look down at Ray. He stared steadily back. Nate’s stomach jumped at the serious purpose in Ray’s face. But then, he’d only known Ray for a little while, but he was starting to think that in a fight between Ray and The Establishment, Nate’s money would be on Ray.

“Okay,” Nate said, dipping his head to rub his nose gently against Ray’s cheek, “Let me know if I can help.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my mind, Ray is obviously Chewbacca. Ridiculously loyal, smarter than anybody expects, always sassing, takes care of everyone. But I also think that Ray would think that he was R2D2, because he overestimates his sarcasm and undervalues how much caring for people is worth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had three or four follow-up ficlets in the same universe, so I thought I'd share them with you all at once.

Nate’s neighbor Jacks stuck his head around the doorframe and asked “Hey, Nate, can we borrow your boyfriend for a minute?”

“My boyfriend comes and goes as he pleases. Just like a real boy! He even speaks and thinks for himself.”

Ray elbowed him and then rolled off the bed where they were studying, and stood up.

“Ignore him, homes, the Peloponnesian War always makes him cranky.” Nate, who was very clearly working on statistics, snorted and flipped Ray off without looking up.

Jacks looked between them, obviously baffled, before turning to Ray “It’s the new sound system. I can’t get it to connect to the TV.”

“Say no more. Let’s go seduce this bitch into providing you with that sweet aural satisfaction.”

Behind them, Nate laughed out loud at the disgusting pun.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nate was behind the desk at the library trying to ignore Ray’s constant stream of consciousness narration (and occasional bursts of song), while Ray checked his email on the library computers and tried his hardest into annoying Nate into shushing him. It was an ongoing challenge between them. Ray let out a particularly atonal squawk and Nate looked up at him in surprise. The unspoken rule was that Ray wouldn’t do anything loud enough that Nate could get in trouble for ignoring it.  
It was hard to tell, but Nate was pretty sure that the look of outrage on Ray’s face was genuine.  
Ray saw him looking and said “Brad doesn’t believe you exist.”

Nate just stared at him.

“He finally answered one of my emails, and he says that there is no way I found someone who was mentally deficient enough to” Ray made a face “ participate in acts of sexual congress with me on purpose.”

“Okayyyyy, and this is a problem because?”

“He doesn’t believe in you!”

“Ray, I’m pretty sure the only creatures whose existence is dependent on the belief of others are fairies. And not the real ones, the Peter Pan ones.”

“Leaving aside the fact that you believe there is such a thing as ‘real’ fairies, I can’t believe you aren’t more bothered by this. He thinks you don’t exist!”

Having determined that the crisis was entirely born out of Ray’s boredom, Nate went back to his homework.

“If I didn’t exist,” Nate said idly “I wouldn’t be having this conversation, and that would be a blessing.”

Ray threw a pencil at him.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nate was loading the last of his dirty laundry into his hamper when his phone rang. He dropped his jeans and the roll of quarters on the top and then picked up the phone. 

“Hello?”  
“Hey, it’s me. Can you do me a favor?” Ray was yelling over the sound of wind and shouting in the background. He was at the state capitol to protest the war, and Nate hadn’t expected to hear from him. 

“Things are heating up here. There’s a rumor that someone called the cops to clear the square, so there’s a decent chance that I’m about to get arrested. If I don’t get back in time for dinner, will you take care of Toaster and English Muffin?”

“Who?”

“The rats! Brad named them stupid names, but while they’re living with Uncle Ray-Ray they get upgraded. Listen, I need to give the phone to someone else. Just fill their bowl with pellets and make sure they have water. Lilley will let you in. If you’ve got time, you could hang out with them. English Muffin is the grey one and she likes to be scratched under the chin. Toaster is a sneaky bitch, so don’t let him wander too far.”

“Okay, but…”  
“Thanks, I have to go. Don’t worry - the last time people got all freaked out about the cops, it ended up being a single rent-a-cop. Also, I’ve got my health insurance card, and we set up a plan for bail last month, so we’re set there. I’ll either see you at dinner or I’ll call you when I get back. Don’t lose Brad’s rats, he’ll kill us both.”

“Ray, WAIT.”

“What?” Ray sounded genuinely stressed now, and Nate almost felt bad about his next question.

“I’m not calling an animal English Muffin. What are their real names?”

Nate could hear Ray’s eye roll through the phone as he said, “I’m plagued by nerds. Talos and Matilda. Okay, see you later!” and hung up before Nate could follow up.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Nate was waiting for Ray and his friends to join him at the table when an unfamiliar guy stopped in front of the table and said “Ray told me I’d know what table to sit at because it was occupied by a nerd in a blue shirt.”

The guy looked pointedly from Nate’s blue shirt to the color coded notes in his notebook next to him, and the spread of pens tucked into the top. 

“I assume you’re Nate? My condolences on the traumatic brain injury that caused you to think that dating Ray was a palatable idea.”  
Nate looked at the guy who was still standing making him seem impossibly tall, and replied “Entirely too convinced of your own self-worth and casting aspersions even though a continent and an entire semester weren’t enough for you to shake Ray? You must be Brad. Take a seat.”

Brad grinned, and inclined his head to acknowledge the point. He took a seat just as Ray’s over-the-top cheerful voice asked “Are we playing nicely, children?” from behind Nate.

He slid into the chair beside Nate and kicked him gently in the shin as a greeting. Ray’s attention was immediately drawn to the bowl of grey lumps on Brad’s tray, and he wrinkled his nose. 

“Dude, what are you eating? Did the food in London permanently pickle your taste buds? Seriously. What the FUCK.”

Ray’s horror drew Lilley’s attention, and he peered over Ray’s shoulder at Brad’s tray. “Nah, brah, that’s his usual dinner. He just swapped the beans for tuna from the salad bar. Did you forget how weird Brad is in the dhall? It’s all about maximum efficiency.”

Brad, who had been forking spinach into his mouth with no regard for the meal critics, finished chewing and said to Nate “It all tastes like garbage anyway, so I just look for the food that has the maximum balance of nutrition and fillingness.”

Nate fought to keep a neutral expression on his face. Brad wasn’t wrong, but a turkey on wheat bread, a salad with plain chicken breast, a bowl of tuna, and a glass of milk seemed like a deeply depressing dinner to eat every night.

Not noticing or not caring about Nate’s distaste, Lilley said “He tried to teach us to apply the same strategy to drinking, but”

“But that was before I realized that these miscreants can’t be trusted with hard alcohol” Brad interrupted. “They can’t be trusted to self-regulate. They just keep taking shots until they’re too drunk to function.”

Nate grinned. He’d seen them drink, and he could only imagine the shit show they all were their freshman year. Brad must have had his hands full.

“How did you end up their designated alcohol coach?” 

“I thought” Brad said darkly “that they could be taught to reason, and then there would be less vomit in the communal bathrooms. I overestimated them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't expect this to be an ongoing fic. I just wrote these scenes while plotting out the initial chapter, and I didn't want to leave them to languish on my hard drive.


End file.
